Tales of Lawndale: The Fixed Ideas
by Eduard Tubin
Summary: Amisha has a few ideas and he has fragile health.


**Tales of Lawndale**

 **The Fixed Ideas**

"Misha...you're smart." Kevin walked up to him in the hallway. "You know all about Russians and so can I have your help reading this book – I can't read Russian."

"Mr. O'Neill assigned Chekhov's The Bear – a Russian play." Amisha looked at the book Kevin had in his hands. "But our translation is in English. Since you speak English this should not be a problem."

"Do you know what it's about." Kevin smiled in his half witted manner which annoyed more than charmed Amisha.

"I read the original Chekhov in Russian." Amisha stood beside the door to Mr. O'Neill's office. "It's not really about bears – the Russians are a cagey bunch – yes? As with real life, The Bear gains humor by making fun of the characters lack of introspection. Not an appropriate choice of reading material for a high school quarterback but Mr. O'Neill wishes to broaden your experience of literature."

Amisha had read Chekhov in Russian for the same reason Daria had read Shakespeare in English. Chekhov had the distinction of being a great figure in Russian literature and Amisha found himself at odds with Shakespeare in English because of the age of the idiom of English and the use of poetic machinery unfamiliar in a free word order language such as Russian or Finnish.

"Anyway…if you want to listen to the play; the British composer William Walton wrote an opera that appears faithful to the play." Amisha made his recommendation knowing the opera was obscure but hoping Kevin might hang on the word _'opera'_ and leave him alone. "We have an interlibrary loan program with colleges and universities in the state and one of them might have a recording. Of course you'll have to deal with the social consequences of using the library given that in teen culture; this may be viewed with suspicion."

"I see Misha. Do you have a copy I could borrow?" Kevin punched his arm as a show of macho solidarity.

"I have it on a set of long play records; I dislike CDs." Amisha said ponderously. "I don't lend out my rare LPs and so you may come over and listen to it on my system if you wish."

Amisha had hoped Kevin might give up listening to British records with him on his vintage stereo. Amisha had doubts Kevin even understood records and hoped he would escape this social situation.

Amisha failed.

* * *

While sitting with her friends in study, Daria sat behind her yellow jacketed copy of _'The Plays of Chekhov'_ and made the equivalent of a dry Daria smile.

"I can't believe you roped yourself into an evening of listening to opera with Kevin." Jane leaned over Amisha's shoulder. "I thought you could manipulate people better than that."

Amisha held his pencil in his left hand and finished writing out some passage in a music notebook that had rattled in his mind since morning and gave out a hearty sigh.

"Does Kevin count as a person in the full, real sense of the word?" Amisha answered unhappily. "Daria told me about doing a science project with him and the tale left me wondering about entrance requirements for public school in the US. Since he worked with Daria, he knows where I live so I can't lie about my address. I offered to let Jordan borrow the record and have Kevin over at his place – he seemed less than enthusiastic about that."

"Misha!?" Ms. Barch called out. "Shouldn't you and Ms. Jane be studying?"

Jane expected Amisha to have to write out lines on the chalkboard as she usually punished the guys in such a manner.

Ms. Barch hadn't figured out if the boy affectionately called 'Misha' merited her hatred of men: he looked harmless and frail due to some medical condition that couldn't be cured.

"I've _read_ The Bear." Amisha sat and looked attentive. "We were discussing some of the differences between the Russian version and the translation into English. The quality of translation can vary greatly depending on the perspective of the translator. Some turns of phrase may not easily be rendered into English. Of course, the same problem applies in the case of your Shakespeare."

Ms. Barch faced a _'cultural'_ problem with Amisha. She often invited the inattentive student to _'come up to the front and share their words with the whole class'_. Socially insecure teens found public speaking a harsh punishment. Amisha came up to the front with the idea he had been granted permission to pontificate and sought this as a chance to establish his merit as a student. He had lived in Finland all of his life but he came from a race where governments had fallen because of a few well placed words.

"I enjoy William Walton as a composer and I have the same fondness for Chekhov that you have for Shakespeare." Amisha sat next to Jane and sipped on a root beer in their usual booth in the Pizza King. "I could enjoy a good evening with a cup of coffee and the British recording and enjoyed a quiet evening. Now I have to add Kevin to the mix. Somehow that sullies the experience for me making it into a postcard facade of the real thing."

"You have come to us as a messenger." Jane smiled slyly. "A prophet to show all who will listen that one can be smart and well adjusted while also insightful and brilliant."

Jane liked this subtle barb. Amisha and Daria had their own kind of spheres of genius and neuroses. Amisha got on with people – he had a kind heart for the truly unfortunate. He had a fussy, pedantic nature and had a steadfast dedication to perfection and labored with his musical art. Jane could make him uncomfortable with religious references. Amisha disliked the topic of religion but Daria had read in his work for school; a Christian world view which pinned future hopes on faith in God and his naive optimism.

"Many prophets were nervous and timid." Daria picked up her slice of pizza. Daria had come to regard Amisha as a good friend with no strings and she knew him very well. He had his own set of fears to complement hers. While he didn't care about being fashionable – his fussy nature made this effortless given his almost Manga like look. He feared being taken as sloppy, undisciplined, lazy or lacking a work ethic. He feared the dark (understandable for he was blind and he trusted her) and so he slept at the foot of her bed and couldn't sleep alone in his room for his pet blue jay couldn't see at night.

"At times, you are too generous." Daria had come to see this as a key flaw in his character – he wanted to please. "Kevin will try and have you do all the work and then he can maintain his average to stay on the football team. I did a science project with him and he did nothing – not a damn thing – so I ended up with the 'A' and Barch failed him. If you do Kevin's work, the first Biblical reference will give you away as the author and Mr. O'Neill will know who helped Kevin cheat."

Amisha looked shocked. Jane felt sorry for him: Amisha had a very strong sense of ethics.

Daria swallowed another piece of pizza. Amisha disliked Kevin as much as he could dislike anyone but this he had not anticipated. He had found others easy to manipulate in his gentle manner but Kevin was apparently immune.

"Misha must be playing the piano." Jane could hear the faint strains of Bach's Fantasia and Fugue in C Minor reflecting and refracting down the hall as the sound traveled from the old upright grand in the lecture hall to her ears. This added a haunting quality to the already finely balanced melancholy work.

"We can't let Trent hear him play – Mystic Spiral might recruit him as a keyboard player." Daria had no idea if Amisha had a clue that as a musician; he had talent. "Bach in Bach will be their next performance piece."

* * *

"Amisha's playing Bach? Shows what I know." Jane admitted effortlessly. "I guess we need to pry him from the piano and have lunch."

"Giving voice to your inner torment?" Jane sat beside Amisha as he played through the first bars belonging to the fugue. The small handed musician spanned the wide gilfs demanded by the music and made it sound as if the old dull red piano had always meant to sound like this.

"I think I'm relieving the piano's inner torment." Amisha answered back. "After generation after generations of klutzes banging out chopsticks; it needed a break."

Daria watched him play. He had to have deep roots in the craft of music because he played without music and had merely sat down and decided to play.

"I don't know if I have a deep inner torment. Either I lack introspection or nothing interesting has happened to me in my life or I'm in denial." Amisha told Jane during one of the quiet passages. "I play Bach when I find myself growing cynical. Cynicism comes naturally to anyone in high school but it leads nowhere."

"You're in denial." Daria watched his hands fly across the keyboard. "We all are."

"Then we'll have to work on this." Amisha gave a sideways glance at Daria. "My fancy clothes and fashion sense not to mention my looks could get me cast as _the talented but tormented gay guy_. I hate the idea of being a cliche like that."

Jane snickered because she had heard rumors.

Amisha finished playing.

"I'm blind." Amisha stood up. "We could spin that into a deep source of inner torment."

"I need lunch." Jane told Daria and Amisha. "I never had the sense you found your blindness a shortcoming."

"I don't." Amisha admitted. "I thought having no sight made me handicapped until I met the man with no brain. Kevin and Brittney cope with this handicap."

"I heard that." Brittney chided.

"I knew they were making out back there." Amisha told Daria and Jane. "How else could I make my way to the piano."

"For a Russian, Misha has a real English _kind_ of sound." Daria had heard the _'The_ _Theme and Variations for Band_ _'_ swell through the upper walls of the Morgandorffer household several times that evening and it reminded her of a fully orchestrated version of music heard on shows like Antiques Roadshow or as a preface to British documentaries.

She had a fondness for his work. Amisha, at his best, placed a subtle melancholy in his pieces that gave them the subtle feel of tragedy. The Music for the Canterbury Tales visited this subtle sadness in how it had shifted about in its modal space and how it used soft notes on the vibraphone or oboe to send this message. This work had the sound of baroque music coupled to the forces of the modern orchestra and glistened with orchestral colors.

Quinn had the rest of The Fashion Club in her room and Daria savored the idea of the four shallow girls being walloped by Misha's musical musings. Walloped might be the wrong choice of words. Quinn had come to like that _'sparkle'_ in his music which she admitted 'made the orchestra clear'.

A crisp scale like theme played on the xylophone which made Daria wonder _'just what the hell was he hoping to do?'_ He had to write for brass instruments and a bass drum, yet this had all the signs of being yet another _Misha Metropolis of Music_.

"Can you tell him to put on headphones." Sandy growled as she checked her looks on Quinn's closet mirror. "I can't believe you put up with that! My parents would have thrown him out for making too much noise."

 _'_ _I kind of like it.'_ Quinn thought to herself.

"Why can't he write real songs." Tiffany complained.

"Alright..." Quinn conceded reluctantly. "He works so hard on his little tunes; I hate to interrupt him."

Stacy had nothing to say: she could hear the tragic side in the regal rondeau but she had to follow.

"Amisha?" Quinn asked as she knocked on his door.

"Yes?"

Quinn could hear Amisha stumble. He never played the clown but he sometimes stumbled over things and on the stairs. Daria had explained his eyesight had never recovered from a serious illness and he had trouble seeing in the dark.

The regal music stopped and the door opened.

"I thought you might turn it down because we're having a Fashion Club meeting." Quinn said delicately.

Daria came out of her room when she heard Amisha stumble. As it was after dark, Sontula lay asleep in his cage and unable to help him see.

Amisha could see through the eyes of others but he trusted her to give him the best view.

"Chekhov's Gun goes off tonight." Amisha waited for Daria to collect her books. "Kevin is coming over to listen to opera with me. _Listen to British opera with me._ "

"You have a chance to bond with our quarterback." Daria handed Amisha one of her books. "Music brings people together."

"I _don't_ want to spend time with Kevin." Amisha waited as Daria slammed her locker shut. "He makes a stark statement about how to succeed without having a brain. I find it disappointing that stereotypes like the dumb as a brick American football player have some truth because other stereotypes _aren't_ so harmless."

Jane patted Amisha on his shoulders as she came up from behind him. Not quite a hug but an affectionate greeting to comfort him and support him for his upcoming hardship.

"Trent suggested you drink until you feel numb." Jane let go of Amisha's shoulders. "That might only work in your country where you're of the legal age."

"Of course spending time with Kevin will also make you feel numb." Daria shared her contempt as she hefted her backpack onto her shoulders and reached for the book in Amisha's hand. "Then you can experience our medical care where you can spend fifty thousand clams on an emergency room visit where they will check you for head injuries."

"Don't worry, I told Brittney Kevin would spend this evening at the home of Daria and Quinn." Jane followed alongside Daria and Amisha. "She looked rather upset."

"I told him about the lab project we did in Ms. Barch's class." Daria had that moment when she wondered why she hadn't thought of using Brittney's jealous insecurity to spare Amisha his torment. "Nice one Jane."

"Kevin and Brittney?" Daria answered the door. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"We came to study with Misha." Kevin talked down to Daria. "He said he could help us with that play about the bear."

"I came to keep an eye on my Kevy." Brittney told Daria in a covert whisper.

"You shouldn't worry about him: a two hundred pound quarterback won't fit into our freezer." Daria rolled her eyes. "Come in...he's in the living room watching the Celtics game with my dad."

Amisha sat on the couch with his feet on the table and he did a double take when he saw Kevin and Brittney.

"Hey Kevin." Jake said cheerfully.

"I forgot you were coming over and so I made no preparations." Amisha politely lied. "I hadn't expected you to bring your girlfriend."

"Come on and watch the game with us." Jake patted the couch as an invitation. "Celtics and Pistons and Misha roots for the Pistons."

"Boston is a city close to my heart." Amisha hoped basketball and not the Bear would take up the evening. "Our high school basketball team always roots for Boston."

"Hi Kevin...can I get you anything to drink?" Amisha asked as Daria headed into the kitchen. "We have coke or root bear and I put a pot of coffee on."

"Root beer." Kevin ordered as if asking a bar tender. "Two cubes."

"Nothing for me." Brittney said in a low growl.

Amisha nodded and walked into the kitchen.

"I can tell when you make coffee." Daria held up her cup. "My fillings corrode."

"Finland is a cold place." Amisha opened the fridge. "Strong coffee keeps us from freezing to death in the snow."

"You should know Brittney thinks you or Quinn might hit on Kevin." Daria then took a sip of her very strong coffee to let Amisha digest that news.

"I can't speak for Quinn; but the amount of alcohol needed for me to find him attractive would kill the population of Canada." Amisha moved a few items in the fridge and grabbed a can of root beer. "As a cultured person of good taste in most things, I feel more than modestly insulted."

I thought I'd tell you because you need to expect weirdness." Daria poured the rest of her cup of coffee down the sink drain. "She had a bout of jealousy when Kevin an I worked on that science project."

Amisha poured the root beer into a clean glass.

"Again, you're a cultured person of good taste and so...same logic applies." Amisha placed the glass under the ice cube dispenser. "Since she has this idea; I have to wonder how the idea sprang into her head in the first place. What kinds of things do they say about me at that school?"

"You might date guys." Daria told him plainly.

"How drunk was I?" Amisha said incredulously as he walked past Daria. "Kind of flattering that some of the students think I might have a life other than high school. Oh...I do. I don't have a romantic life because most women don't like my coffee."

Kevin drank his root beer in one go. Brittney didn't touch hers and let it rest on a coaster on the coffee table.

Brittney looked bored and Quinn glared at Amisha for serving soda to Kevin because that was her job.

"During the commercial, do any of you have any questions about The Bear?" Amisha offered as he muted the television. "I can't write your essays but can I assume you've read the work?"

As assignments went, The Bear wasn't long or tedious but the silence that followed told Amisha neither Brittney or Kevin had cracked the book of Chekhov plays.

"Is this guy related to Pavel Chekov on Star Trek?" Kevin asked as if entertaining a serious idea.

"They don't even have the same last name..." Amisha didn't want to net himself in the twisted logic of his fellow English students. Russian spelled words phonetically and the name _'Chekov'_ and _'Chekhov'_ sounded distinctly different and had distinct spelling in the Russian Cyrillic alphabet.

Amisha pressed mute when the game returned.

"Watch football much?" Kevin asked.

"At home, we watched the odd Premier League game that came in over Sky Network and the German Bundesliga." Amisha caught himself in a mistake. He had seen but never watched American football and realized he spoke about the game known as 'soccer' in North America. "Anyway...back to the game."

Daria wanted to get the camera because Amisha and Kevin sat together on the couch and she could almost sense the repulsion between them. The prim and proper small Amisha with his bright searching eyes contrasted ironically with the dull and sullen concussed Kevin. Amisha didn't 'dislike' anyone: he had that European tolerance of others; yet he did disapprove of people. He disapproved of Kevin because as Daria gathered from her conversations with her friend: Amisha regarded Kevin as an uncultured, spoiled, morally bankrupt bastard.

Daria agreed in this assessment.

That Amisha the demon didn't kill Kevin also seemed remarkable as the green eyed demon fielded stupid questions and didn't once raise his voice.

The next day, Amisha had returned to his usual self.

Daria and Amisha met Jane the end of their driveway.

"Shouldn't you wear a jacket?" Jane asked with concern. "It looks like it'll rain."

"Naw...a fall day in Lawndale is a warm day in Tampere – I might have gone to the beach if I didn't have to go to school." Amisha said as he put his hands in his pockets.

"Kevin _and_ Brittney came over last night." Daria told Jane.

"I think I'll make a film about them." Amisha said in a dreamy voice. "How beautiful it is to see them distantly in the glow of evening: those airheads in the mist."

"Can I draw the art for the movie poster?" Jane walked along with Daria and Amisha. "I could represent your cinematic vision and draw people to see your movie."

"I have scruples...I'd worry that my cinematic _genius_ would turn Kevin and Brittney into role models for other teenagers." Amisha told the girls drolly. "The Universe would punish me with pustules and a hacking cough for such a crime."

"I wonder if the Universe cares." Daria said flatly. "Quinn deserves pustules and yet her skin is perfect."

"I think it depends on the scale of the crime." Amisha explained as he watched his breath form fog. He was feeling cold but wasn't going to admit it. "Perky and pretty people don't do much harm but making role models out of rather awful people like Kevin and Brittney might merit a bit of payback."

"Awful – why do you say that?" Daria raised her eyebrow and wondered if she should have made Amisha take his coat.

"Kevin asked me to help him cheat." Amisha said severely. "I find they offend my sense of propriety – that might be it."

"He wouldn't know what propriety means." Daria gave a weak smile because Amisha admitted quite openly to having a _'moral compass'_ which had become unfashionable among intellectuals of late. "No one got hurt last night and my dad had two guys to watch basketball with – you made the Celtics fan in him happy."

"Why don't you wear a jacket?" Jane saw Amisha visibly shivering as they walked past the staff parking lot of the high school. "You look cold enough for both of us."

Amisha collapsed in front of the door of the school

Wump! Wump!

"I see a bright light and I hear a loud pounding sound." Amisha said to himself. "As far as I know I'm dead and things have worked out much as expected. I suppose demons have a limited lifespan – everything does."

"Misha! Can you please keep still until we've finished our tests." A kind but determined male voice came over a hidden public address speaker. "You're in the hospital and we are doing an MRI because we think you might have had a seizure and need to image your brain."

"Daria...Daria!" Jane sat on an uncomfortable olive green colored vinyl covered bench. "I can see the maternity ward on the fourth floor through the groove you've worn in the floor."

"Amisha just collapsed." Daria said as she stopped in the middle of the waiting room. "The EMT and doctors call it a seizure but no one knows."

Jane just nodded.

"I'm not dead yet." Amisha reminded Jane and Daria as young red haired nurse wheeled him through the waiting room.

"You are his friends?" The nurse asked kindly.

"Yes!" Daria made an attempt to control her emotions. "How is he?"

"He is being discharged but has an appointment with Doctor Schwann, a neurologist on Monday. He can retrieve his possessions at Admitting. Until then, have this prescription filled." She opened her clipboard and handed a sheet to Amisha. "He's a real chatterbox."

"I'll call your dad to pick us up." Jane told Amisha. "You can wheel him down to admitting and see if the nurses have pawned his nice watch or if he'll get it back."

"We'll meet you out front." Daria said as she began pushing the wheelchair.

Jane held the door open and Daria wheeled out Amisha.

"Did they say anything about your freakish hairy feet." Daria hid her sense of relief with her joke.

The wheelchair squeaked as Daria pushed it down the hallway to the elevator.

"Naw...I'm Russian." Amisha made a smart snicker. "Russian beards have clogged toilets on the space station."

"How is Amisha doing?" Mr. O'Neill asked when Daria handed in her completed exam paper on The Bear.

Daria had handed in a doctor note to excuse Amisha from taking the test but such medical affairs were private matters and the note gave no information. She decidedto respect his privacy and prepared her pat answer.

"He'll be back tomorrow." Daria replied as she gripped her backpack.

"That's good to hear." Mr. O'Neil said kindly. "Tell him we can easily reschedule the exam when he's ready."

"Thanks. I'll let him know."

No one else except Jane and Quinn cared. Even Amisha the music maker was another student and one with a small clique. When Kevin the quarterback had injured his knee; everyone missed his contribution because the school embarked upon a humiliating losing streak.

"High school sucks." Daria went to her locker to put her knapsack away. On this Tuesday; during lunch the halls sounded empty and hollow. Amisha had a small presence, but a clearly audible one. He played the old piano in the auditorium or whistled as he walked through the halls with his hands in his pockets.

"I could whistle if that would help." Jane walked up to Daria. "Eerie and quiet...without the green haired dude to make music; the halls sound so dreary. Ms. Li must be happy he's not here today: the hidden microphones will work."

"Lets have lunch." Daria closed her locker. "He was fine all weekend. So far as the doctors could tell, he had nothing wrong. They think he may have seizures when stressed but the neurologist will run some tests."

'At which point, they'll ship him back to Finland because he has a pre – existing condition.' Daria thought to herself.

"That doesn't sound so bad." Jane followed Daria to the cafeteria. "They have to check these things and that's when you let your imagination run wild. When you got sick; I had a few sleepless nights worrying for no good reason. When Amisha got sick, I told myself I wouldn't worry like that because it wouldn't happen."

"And." Daria pushed the door to the cafeteria open.

"I will catch up on sleep in study hall." Jane smirked. "I didn't study for that test so I probably failed."

Jake arrived home with Amisha at half past three.

"Hello...Quinn missed you." Daria had stood by the door waiting since she returned from school and she opened the door. "Well?"

Jake and Amisha shook their umbrella dry and entered the house.

"I have stress induced partial seizures. Sort of the brain equivalent of a rash – part of my brain called the temporal lobe gets irritated easily and this shows up as seizures. Fairly common and in my case, as far as the doctors can tell; relatively harmless." Amisha said as he crossed the threshold of the front door. "Doctor Schwan informed me that some people develop them in response to stres or changes in the environment," Amisha moved out of the way as Jake entered the house. "like time zone changes."

"Nice to have you back big fella." Jake patted Amisha's shoulder.

"I'll have to keep taking the pills while I'm in America on my visa." Amisha told Jake and Daria. "I stopped to pick up a month supply at the pharmacy on the way back here."

"Nice to hear." Daria worked hard not to sound pleased.

"At least I had drink strong coffee or the substitute you brew." Amisha headed for the kitchen and poured himself a coffee.

Amisha poured out a cup for Jake who held out his mug.

"I'll have to talk to Mr. O'Neill and make the arrangements to take that test. Amisha reminded himself.

"So you'll be going to school tomorrow?"

"I can't see why I shouldn't." Amisha took a long pull from his coffee mug and enjoyed the bitter but cool taste of his favorite drink. "Of course I could have that kind of epilepsy Kramer had and so hearing Kevin's voice will cause me to have another seizure. Too bad, he wasa fine quarterback but academics is so important at Lawndale High."

"And I will make a new pot of proper coffee." Amisha glared at his cup. "Do you want coffee?"

"Good to have you back Amisha." Daria gave him a nice smile. "Jane and I worried about you – so lets have coffee – coffee for everyone."

Amisha sat cross legged on Daria's rug and watched TV through Daria's eyes.

"I thought you demons couldn't get sick." Daria finally worked up the courage to ask. "Yet you have this seizure problem."

"I have to spend time in my human form, and I inherit all his or her health problems." Amisha didn't like the show _'Sick Sad World'_ and so took this as an opportunity for diversion. "In Lawndale, I have to spend most of my time in my human incarnation and so I have health problems."

"How come you chose someone unhealthy?" Daria sat on the bed with her hands wrapped around her legs wearing a blue night shirt with a white and pastel characture of Sartre on the front.

"I had no choice." Amisha grew somber. "I can't push you out of your body just because I want to live in it. It doesn't work like that. When I returned to Earth, I found a family where a young infant, about nine months old, had severe encephalitis caused by a genetic disorder. When the poor boy passed away; I could take up residence and I grew up in his body."

"Oh..." Daria pondered. "Yet you have powers."

"I can fly in demon form." Amisha had found this ability of little use in Lawndale because he couldn't easily see and in the fall, very few animals flew at night and the vast unplanned suburb had surprises for the blind; flying demon like mall signs and phone towers. Tampere posed these same problems but he had grown up flying over the city and had the layout well memorized.

"Tonight on _Sick Sad World – Why aliens might be living in the bodies of your children!_ "

"The Universe must run on cheap coincidences like this." Daria muted the television. "Let me know if you recognize any of your friends."

"Wormwood has blue eyes." He said.

"Doctor Schwann had my medical records available to him." Amisha shrugged with resignation. "I had a few seizures last year when I had the flu – I had a good idea what was going on. Nothing they told me was news to me."

"Why did you come to Lawndale?" Daria clasped her arms tighter.

"I had finished school at home – in Finland, students work at their own pace and so you can graduate when you can write the finals for graduation – typically academic or trade finals." Amisha pointed at himself. "I finished my courses, passed the finals and so the ministry of education released me as a graduate. "They released me from school when I was fourteen – our term for graduating."

"How does that work?" Daria leaned forward.

"We begin elementary school and have normal grades." Amisha explained to Daria. "Again, once the ministry of education releases you; they set out a buffet. What you call high school actually might better be called college or trade prep school. You can take academic courses supervised by your professors; or trades or arts. I went for academics and had to complete my fifteen courses to be released – that meant I was ready to enter first year college. I did that by attending all three semesters – given we don't have summer; it made no sense to take a break and with my exam grades – they released me to college."

"What about academic underachievers like Kevin or Brittney?"

"I had lots of pressure to place well in my classes and to get my work done as quickly as possible." Amisha remembered long evenings in the summer working on those thorny calculus problems only to look out the window at the blazing sun and then to his clock and realize it was one in the morning. "If you do well, everything is paid for – school, college, trades, apprenticeship, everything."

"Mystic Spiral refuses to do a cover of this work." Trent told the mangy group attending the grunge club. "Some music deserves to be heard. I turn the stage over to my sister Jane and her friend Daria."

"Our friend and the composer of _The Musicians Guide to the Orchestra_ has grown ill." Daria said in a stammering voice. "We asked him if we could play his latest composition at the club. He called it _'Theme and Variations: The Musicians Guide to the Orchestra'._ "

"You came here to here a band play songs." Jane picked up the mike as she held the remote for the television projector in her hand. "We came here to present you with a piece of music that deserves to be heard because it has no lyrics and no meaning or motto but counts as great art."

"You will hear it twice." Daria picked up the mike. "On the first hearing you will hearme read his notes on the work. On the second, you will hear it uninterrupted. Each time you will see the score scrolling on the screen."

Daria cleared her throat and handed the mike to Jane.

"The title of the work consists of nothing but a statement of form and of the purpose of the piece." Jane started the projector with the remote. "In the first movement, you will hear the theme as stated by the whole orchestra and then repeated by each of the sections."

What could be said?

Amisha could have taken the place of Korngold or John Williams or Bernstein as a film composer and yet he reached beyond that. He wrote a simple, brilliant, polished piece of musical perfection and even the grunge crowd in the club could not quit applauding after the second playing. They demanded to hear it again because it had simple lines, no complex meaning and yet it showed such great craftsmanship that no true musician could deny they had heard something unrepeatable.

Daria sat at a table as the music with the happy, joyful and clean proportions played for those who ha come for music that lacked this.

Trent had learned a few lessons. He could never approach that kind of purity of expression through music. He took solace in the fact the who could was a friend and while he struggled to make wood and wire sing, his friend could help him do his best. Amisha was a generous soul. He discovered that optimism was legitimate if honestly expressed.


End file.
